Forget Me Not
by Red Sova
Summary: His head hurt. God Everything hurt. Why did everything hurt so? What happened?


His head hurt.

God Everything hurt.

Despite the ringing in his ears he could hear a voice calling out for someone but nothing really seemed to matter as the rouge gave a soft pained groan.

Why did everything hurt so?

What happened?

He could feel the weight pressuring him down slowly began to lift and faintly reconize the sound of rubble being thrown about.

"Red?"

There was that voice again.

A hand gently yet firmly gripped his broken wrist causing the pain to flare as whoever it was pulled him from beneath the access rubble and into a sitting position.

"Red?"

The voice was soft, almost as soft as the hand wiping at the crimson liquid upon his face. Mismatched eyes glanced upwards.

There was a man there.

A man with strangely white hair and deep unnatural emerald eyes. He was familiar but the rouge couldn't recall from where.

"Red, can you hear me?'

Red?

Confusion overtook his expression though a part of him yelled to hide it as his eyes met the other's.

"Who?"

Who was Red- did the other mean him- and who was this man?

Something flashed within the taller's gaze as he stared down. Something about that gaze made him uneasy but the rouge coudln't find it in himself to look away.

"Red, do you reconize me?"

The golden/crimson eyed rouge stared up in confusion not quite sure what to say. The man seemed fimilar but he couldn't recall form where.

Did they know each other?

Was Red supposed to be his name?

A soft chuckle left the other before the rouge fount the man's jacket wrapped around him and his tattered clothing.

"You must of hit you're head prettty hard to forget me," the emerald eyed man offered a warm smile, "but thats okay. I'm Nigel, Red, Your Husband. "

"Husband?"

What was a husband?

The word sounded foreign even within his own voice. Yet the other was patient as he smiled warmly and sat down across from him.

"A spouse. We live together. "

Oh. So then this man was likely to know the most about him. The rouge could feel the tension leave his body at the thought.

That was a relaxing thought afterall, Someone needed to know because he sure as hell didn't.

* * *

His mission was to kill Red and in a way Nigel supposed he had.

It was a flux that the Russian had survived the blast at such a close range. A flux that he had even woken when Nigel had stumbled across the younger's arm sticking out of the rubble. If not for that, the spy would have believed the rouge dead.

Still by some miracle- or just utter spite- Red had survived though not without a cost.

He could recall the clear confusion on the smaller's face as the younger as the smaller looked up at him. The lack of ability to reconize his own name.

Even after all those years, all those decades of the utter Hell they went through together or afflicted upon one another, those eyes didn't even recognize him. There was no trademark anger or hatred. No hidden intent or brief regrets for past desires.

The younger just looked so lost and confused...

Heh...

Maybe it was immoral but he had jumped at the newly presented opportunity.

Maybe it was wrong of him to lie to bluntly to the smaller's face especially when he saw how the younger had just taken him at his word.

Maybe it was wrong to tell him they where married when the Red he knew would of skinned him for such a bold face lie.

But God Damn It, he didn't regret it.

His mission was to kill Red and in a way he had. The russian across from him, smiling of all things, was nothing like the jaded monster Nigel had grown used to.

This Red was soft and gentle with a soft spot for children. He still had his sharp wit, snark remarks and inpantience when dealing with idiots that had once made him rather infamous but it lacked any of the rouge's malicious intent.

Without the hatred, anger and need for vengeance- without his memeories- Red had shaped into a good person, the spy decided as he watched the rouge hum a tune he didn't know as the younger went about making diner.

Maybe it was wrong of him but a part of Nigel coudn't help but hope the smaller never remembered.

They where so much happier this way, even if it had been built on partial lies.

Turning on heel, the emerald eyed man made his way back towards his study never noticing how that soft golden eye had sharpened or the dangerously familiar smirk that fount its way to the rouge's face.

 _'Well played, Agent Nigel.'_


End file.
